Vhulok
by mysinfulamadeo
Summary: Seamus Finnigan has always been a simple boy. Outlandish, overconfident, and extremely perverted yes, but simple. All of that is about to change.
1. Chapter 1

Seamus Finnegan wanted to die. He wanted a blessed wand-wielding angel, preferably one with long dark hair and large soft breasts, to walk through the infirmary door, throw his bed curtains aside and blast him to hell using whatever horrible curses they deemed necessary. Anything had to be better than this, even the Crutiatus curse. His head throbbed so intensely it was a wonder he could feel any of his other aches. His vision had blurred to nothingness hours ago, and now he was left in a hazy fog through which he could sense only his pain.

His chest burned as if his heart itself had caught fire, a fire which was now ripping through his ribs and settling in his stomach. The worst however, was his shoulders, which was where all this torture had originated. The stinging had started lightly, like a hard sharp rain, during Transfiguration, and he had chosen to ignore what he assumed were violent muscle twinges, in favor of changing the shoe before him into a bird. McGonagall had yet to specify what kind of bird, and Seamus had wracked his brain to come up with the flashiest, most over-the-top fluttering creation he could, because that was what everyone expected of Seamus. He had narrowed his choices down to a phoenix and a muggle parrot, when the "sharp rain" feeling began progressing towards small bits of hail.

It then worked its way up to a swarm of hornets stinging away at his flesh, and now felt as if a million microscopic hooks were sinking deep into his muscles only to rip themselves back out a millisecond later and start the process again. That's how it had started, and that had been bad enough, but then it spread, not in a slow leak, but rapidly jumping to new flesh upon which it could leash unholy terrors anew. Yeah it had started with the stinging, of that he was sure, and moved to the throbbing, which was kind in comparison to its next move, the burning. He had begun sweating and panting, the shoe now long forgotten, and when the burning began he had screamed. A small scream, not the sound of a boy enduring unendurable agony, but more than enough for McGonagall to dismiss class and lead him by his arm to the infirmary.

Seamus screamed and thrashed about like a wild animal on the small infirmary bed as a bewildered Madame Pomfrey looked on in terror. She had tried everything, checked for every known curse, and when that failed tried a simple restraining spell, only to have the blue light rebound off the squirming form before her and hit the stone wall. She had thought the arrival of Professor Dumbledore would solve things, but after a series of spells as unsuccessful as hers the aged headmaster stood back in shock. Immediately plans were made for moving the young man to St. Mungo's, but before they could reach a decision they were faced by another scream, this time so agonized it could have easily put a banshee to shame, then utter silence.

When, through the haze of torment, Seamus felt the burn in his chest and belly spread to scalding needles running through his groin Seamus Finnegan passed out.

Later that same day Pomfrey, Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall sat down in Madame Pomfrey's office for a conference with Mr. LeMoine, a healer sent over from St. Mungo's in hopes of finding a solution other than transportation (always risky with and unconscious patient). The healer's quick magical scan had, like Pomfrey's, revealed absolutely nothing, but it was quite obvious from his continuous moaning and shaking that the boy was still in great pain.

"Are we certain there is nothing else to be done? Perhaps we could have another healer, one specializing in dark curse, travel here to take a look. Healer Geraghty is excellent I hear, and I'm certain…"

"No. With all due respect I am the head matron of this infirmary, and that boy needs to be at St. Mungo's!"

"Surely you don't think the boy is under the influence of a dark curse." Upon hearing this all eyes turned towards Professor McGonagall, who spoke again "Well you did just say sir that perhaps a dark curse specialist…"

"Would be appropriate, yes I did" the healer finished for her "A conviction in which I am very firm. I have worked at St. Mungo's for over 40 years, and in that time have treated many patients, and I have yet to come across something of this nature. He responds as if under the Crutiatus Curse, but there is no caster within sight, the boy is suffering, and he needs help! I cannot however, comfortably take the risk of transporting him in this condition." The last was said with a cold look at Madame Pomfrey, making it clear exactly how he felt about the mediwitch's ineptitude at controlling this situation, and conveniently ignoring his own inability to solve the problem. "If additional aid is needed…"

"Why don't we" the Headmaster interjected, instantly hushing the low bickering which had broken out across the table "allow young mister Finnigan to decide for himself?" The words had no more left the old man's chapped lips than every pair of eyes turned towards the boy in question, whose renewed shaking increased with every passing moment.

Both healers rushed toward the boy's bedside, followed more slowly by the two staff, each hoping for some sign of improvement. They watched in horror as a pool of sticky warm wetness began to seep out around the prone figure of Seamus Finnigan, who promptly rolled over and sicked up on the floor.

As he lay curled on his side, the four other occupants of the room stared in abject horror, as the deep long gashes in the boy's back began to grow and, puzzlingly enough, bulge. The gut-wrenching screams began anew as Seamus felt the flesh on his back being flayed open from the inside out. Had he been fully cognizant he might have been able to recognize the numerous, and quite ineffective, healing and blood replenishing spells the adults were casting on him. As it was, the Irish lad was aware only of the utter anguish wracking his body for what seemed an eternity, and the abrupt end of it, which came upon him so suddenly that for a few moments Seamus was mute. After hours of suffering the sudden loss of any sensation, even the full-body soreness one would expect after such a trying ordeal, was too much for the boy's mind to handle. For the second time that day, Seamus Finnigan passed out.

The Headmaster, the Transfiguration Professor, the Medi-witch, and the Healer all stared on, their faces contorted in varying degrees of horror and shock. For the first time in quite a long time, 17 years to be exact, McGonagall uttered words reserved, in her mind at least, for only the most dire of circumstances : "Oh bloody fuck." It wasn't said with any true vehemence, but with the reluctant resignation of one who realizes that something undeniably horrible and entirely out of their control has occurred, and can never be undone. "Quite", whispered the, by then, pale as snow headmaster. The other two occupants of the room could only nod in mute agreement.


	2. Chapter 2

Seamus Finnigan didn't want to die anymore. The pain was long gone, leaving in its wake a kind of hyper awareness that was at the same time disconcerting and comforting. He could feel every fiber of the warm, wet cloth, as it was rubbed in soothing circles over his back. Madame Pomfrey? No, because he could also feel the network of veins thrumming with blood, under the flesh of the small, delicate hand which was cradling his. So Dean had come to check on him. The thought of Dean washing him with a cloth, tending to him in his sleep, brought a feeling of warmth that no blanket could equal.

Yesterday he had thought of nothing except the pain wracking his body, but now, in the early light of day filtering through the windows at the far end of the room, Seamus realized just how close he had probably come to dying. How close he had come to losing Dean. Possessed with that thought, he attempted to roll over to face his self-appointed nurse, likely even plant a deep lingering kiss on those lips, only to have the oddest sensation pass over him. It felt as if though a sheet of the lightest silk was being poured over his back like liquid. It was the odd and slightly squishy feeling of pressing against a feather mattress, and having the feathers move under you.

Frozen, more in confusion than any true pain or fear, Seamus halted his movement, and one of the hands ran up and down his sides, while that low rumble of a voice began murmuring non-sense in his ear. Any other time Seamus would have been enraged over the being treated like an infant, but the voice and the hand were comforting, and the more Seamus began to get his bearings about himself, the more he needed that comfort.

He could sense too much. He felt every ridge and crease of Dean's hand as it stilled on his hip for a moment; he could hear the individual octaves in Deans voice meld together into one perfectly harmonious pitch; he could taste the heavy moisture in the air and smell the blueberries, which Dean had undoubtedly heaped on top of his breakfast this morning, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if he rolled over and opened his eyes he would see Dean as he never had before.

"Dean," Seamus whispered in a wavering voice "what's wrong with me? What happened yesterday?"

Dean's response was to tighten his grip on Seamus' hand, and mutter a charm under his breath. Seamus was so enraptured at the feeling of magic vibrating through his body, that he almost missed the charm. The hovering mirror, which of course Dean would be familiar with by now. The thought of how Dean learned that spell made Seamus smile wistfully, as he remembered the dark flush that had spread across his lover's body as the mirror had appeared above his bed. Still, why would they need the charm here, in the infirmary of all places and why wouldn't Dean answer his question unless…oh. The mirror was Dean's answer. So whatever it was, the boy beside him obviously felt that he needed to see the problem for himself.

Taking in a deep, calming breath, which despite what Dean might say about meditation never did anything to calm Seamus, he opened his eyes. Staring in blank shock, for how else can one stare at their reflection when it is sporting four foot wings, Seamus drew in a ragged breath, and squeezed so hard that dean let out a slight yelp. Aside from the wings, he really didn't look all that different. A bit taller, a bit broader through the shoulders, but that was about it.

Still, bloody fucking-hell…he had wings.

"Well that explains the back pain" he muttered, and wasn't even aware that he had spoken aloud until Dean responded,

"They're very nice you know. The wings I mean." And they were. They weren't all feathery and feminine, and didn't make him look the slightest bit like the pillow-biter he truly was at heart. They began at his shoulder blades, that much he could feel, and extended out, past his head, and swooped back down. Rather than feathers, they were covered in the softest skin-like sheath, which glimmered darkly like a ravens feathers, shifting hue slightly as the light caught them. Seamus Finnigan had wings. Bloody fantastic wings if he did say so himself, and since Dean was not yet running away in terror, he could only assume that his boyfriend shared the sentiment.

"So I have wings huh?" Seamus felt a bit ridiculous to be going on about them but really, how often is it that a lad just wakes up with wings sprouting out of his back? Still, he had one more question he needed answered before he focused to fully on the wings. "So," he stated firmly, feeling much more comfortable with the whole situation than he had only moments before "the wings are it then right?" His face and chest looked normal enough, but Dean could see things he couldn't, and had been there long enough to catalog every new feature, if there were even any more, and had had plenty of time to come to terms with this whole ordeal. Seamus was shocked to hear the shake in Dean's voice as he answered. "That's not quite all" Dean whispered, then with a nervous glance at Seamus' crotch answered "no, most definitely not all of it."

Suddenly the memories of his pain from yesterday returned full force, and the Irish boy broke out in a cold sweat. No, absolutely not. He remembered the pain shooting like needles through his groin, but there was no fucking way it wasn't there. He would have felt it right? That's the sort of thing a bloke notices when he wakes up, whether he can see it or not. Bit like getting your leg cut off really. You don't just wake up after that and have a conversation with the persona sitting beside you and no bloody well notice that you're short one leg. So it couldn't be gone. It simply couldn't.

He wasn't afraid of losing Dean. Really, Dean was a good guy, and the sort of chap who would stay with you even after you lost a leg…or something else. Still, Dean had looked beyond terrified when he glanced down, and it wasn't fair for a nice, healthy young man Dean's age to be stuck with an invalid, just because he was too nice to leave. Seamus drew in a deep breath, hoping it would fortify him for what he was about to say next.

"Dean," He began as calmly as he could "I know you like me. I like you as well. Sometimes though, we don't always get what we like, or even what we love, and it's hardly fair for you to stay and have to deal with something this embarrassing, and I mean I suppose we could still have sex, but let's face it, I'm a lousy bottom, and you've not got the confidence of a self-assured top, and I don't mean to be stingy, but really it hardly seems fair that I just lie there and take it, even though I'm not getting anything out of it. Maybe some blokes could do that, but I can't. And I know that's not fair, because there was that time 5th year when you laid there and took it, and didn't get anything out of it except a really sore bum, but the potion went wrong, really what did you expect from the guy who took 5 years to learn to turn water to rum, and I apologized for that a lot, but I'm still not as good of a guy is you, and I just don't think I can have sex without my bits all attached..."

"Seamus!" Dean yelled, and Seamus stopped rambling because Dean b never /b yelled, and he braced himself for the worst.

Dean, who had been staring blankly for most of Seamus' sentence now understood the Irish boys' concern and let out a chuckle, which escalated to a laugh, then finally spread to full hysteria.

Seamus, who though his boyfriend was being awful, all things considered, but stared in shock as Dean shook with mirth beside him.

"For Gods' sake Seamus," Dean gasped out, his laughter now dying at the look on his boyfriend's face, "just look why don't you."

Seamus decided to do just that, and braced himself for the horror that no doubt awaited him inside his pants. Although not a particularly religious fellow, Seamus could help but send out a small mental prayer as his hand moved downward: 'Please don't let me be a bird. Let it be cut off and gory and revolting, but whatever you do, please i please /i don't let me be a bird.' With that last thought, Seamus pulled his trousers away from himself, and let out a startled gasp.

Dean, now no longer smirking in the slightest, leaned over and looked as well. He had seen it already, when he had come rushing in from class at the news, and found Seamus naked and shivering on the bed. He had brought a new pair of pants from the dorm, and gently slipped them over his lover's hips, though he had opted not to bring a shirt, not knowing quite how to deal with the new appendages on Seamus' back.

Still, looking again only brought the horror of the whole situation home, and in a shaky voice, making him sound much younger than his years, Dean firmly announced "Seamus Finnigan I love you, but I am never bottoming again," and with that Dean collapsed back into his chair and left his boyfriend to stare in awe at the disturbing growth spurt certain parts of his body had decided to undergo. Dean sighed and dropped his head in his hands, shaking it back and forth determinedly, softly muttering to himself "never, ever bottoming again for that."


End file.
